On Saturday, the Vogel Street Party hit the streets of the Warehouse Precinct. Now in its third year, the party continues the celebration of Dunedin’s successes by highlighting CONNECTIONS — celebrating the links that bring our Dunedin communities together with the rest of the world, as well as each other. Our gigatown status means we can showcase the creative arts, fashion, music, drama, interactive activities, innovation and development across the city.

Sat, 8 Oct 2016ODT: Thousands flock to Vogel St Party
A crowd of more than 15,000 took in the sights of Dunedin’s heritage gem during the Vogel St Party today. Vogel St Party Charitable Trust chairman Brendan Christie said the party was “great”.

Fri, 2 Sep 2016ODT: Petition calls on SDHB to ditch Compass
A petition calling on the Southern District Health Board to ditch its contract with the company supplying hospital meals in the area has been presented to the board’s commissioner. Real Meals coalition spokesperson Anna Huffstutler said they had gathered 3000 signatures for their petition to get rid of Compass. “We want the Compass contract gone, and the job of preparing hospital meals and Meals on Wheels back where it belongs – in hospital kitchens where local ingredients are used and local people are doing the work.”

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Deputy commissioner Richard Thomson said a survey of SDHB patients showed satisfaction with meals in July was over 90%.

Sat, 3 Sep 2016ODT: Anti-Compass deal petition presented
A petition calling for the Southern District Health Board (SDHB) to end the contentious Compass food contract was presented to SDHB commissioner Kathy Grant yesterday. The SDHB has faced criticism over the quality of the frozen meals since previously in-house hospital kitchen meals were outsourced in January. [Dunedin South MP Clare Curran] said the Compass contract was a “flawed project” which had caused a lot of grief for people in Otago and Southland.

### dunedintv.co.nz Thu 1 Sep 2016
The South TodayPetition calls for dumping of Compass contract
A food-oriented organisation has called on the Southern District Health Board to end its contract with Compass. The Real Meals Coalition has gathered thousands of signatures supporting the dumping of the contract. The quality of Compass meals in the region’s hospitals has been called ‘rubbish’. The petition, with 3000 signatures on it, is going to be presented to Commissioner Kathy Grant tomorrow. Compass has a 15 year contract with the DHB to provide ready-made meals, which some have criticised as disgusting and inedible.Ch39 Link

Letting the building “tell its story”, involves retaining and keeping exposed as many historic features as possible.

### ODT Online Wed, 4 May 2016Redevelopment revised (+ video)
By Vaughan Elder
Owner Russell Lund’s previous plans to redevelop the three-storey 143-year-old heritage warehouse building in Thomas Burns St involved building 24 long-term apartments on the top floor, but he told the Otago Daily Times yesterday he had changed tack. He has brought over United States architect and friend Paul Ries, who has drawn up ambitious plans to convert the two top floors into more than 50 short-stay apartments, with the ground floor used as a commercial space.Read more + Gallery

Otago Daily Times Published on May 3, 2016
Dunedin Loan and Mercantile building

CNN : Prince’s sound was as unique and transfixing as he was. He created what became known as the Minneapolis sound, which was a funky blend of pop, synth and new wave.

I am so saddened to hear of Prince's passing. Prince was a revolutionary artist, a wonderful musician and composer. Prince was an original lyricist and a startling guitar player. His talent was limitless. Prince was one of the most unique and exciting artists of the last 30 years. — Mick Jagger (@MickJagger) April 21, 2016

Minnesota Public Radio (US)Fans, famous mourn Prince’s death
“Today, the world lost a creative icon,” President Barack Obama said in a statement. “Few artists have influenced the sound and trajectory of popular music more distinctly, or touched quite so many people with their talent. He was a virtuoso instrumentalist, a brilliant bandleader, and an electrifying performer.”

4.00 am on Sunday, 20 December 2015 marked the centenary of the last man leaving ANZAC cove at the end of the Gallipoli campaign. By the time the Allies evacuated the peninsula after just over eight months of fighting, each side had lost just under 60,000 dead. By the military standards of other battles in World War I these losses were small. Despite this, for three combatant countries, the young dominions of Australia and New Zealand and the yet to be born Turkish Republic, the battle was a seminal national event.

For this reason the details of the battle itself are well known and have been repeatedly re-enacted in print, video and film. What has received slightly less attention is how the Allies and the Turkish (Ottoman) Empire came to be enemies in the first place. The Ottoman Empire was not part of the deadly twin daisy chains of alliances and obligations that dragged all the other great imperial powers of Europe into an involuntary state of war in the days after the Austro Hungarian Empire chose to attack Serbia. The Ottomans had the luxury of choice. They could join the Allies, or they could join the Central Powers. Or, they could not join in at all – the eminently sensible option favoured by the then Sultan, Mehmed V.

The convoluted and sometimes ridiculous story of how the Ottoman Empire eventually did get involved on the side of the Central Powers, and thus became one of New Zealand’s ‘enemies’, makes for interesting reading. It involves pride, greed, incompetence, insubordination, brilliant opportunism and desperate decisions made in haste with little information. Above all it involves battleships, the great floating fortresses that so disastrously possessed the minds of men both great and small in the first decades of the twentieth century. Battleship mania was a truly global phenomenon. Thus this story begins not in Europe or Asia, but in South America some eight years before the First World War broke out.

At the beginning of the twentieth century the four-cornered battleship building race between Germany, Britain, the USA and Japan was well established. With their greater shipyard capacity, this was a race that the USA and Britain should have won comfortably. However, they were hampered by their political systems. The governments of Germany and Japan, where democracy was tightly delimited, were able to pursue their naval build up steadily and in a carefully planned manner. In the USA and Britain public opinion and short-term political expediency made this impossible. Periods of complacency when shipyards were starved of orders for battleships alternated with periods of panic, when they were literally drowning in them.

This created an intolerable situation in British and American shipyards. Dreadnought battleships were at the limits of the technology of their day. Their construction required massive fixed installations served by enormous and highly skilled workforces that simply could not be assembled and dispersed at will. If a race-winning dreadnought building capacity was to be maintained, somehow the demand for them within these two democracies had to be smoothed out. Then, as now, it was realised that exporting these cutting-edge weapons of war to third countries was one way in which this could be done. As a result, both Britain and the USA became vicious rivals in the international export market for dreadnought battleships. The most skilled and unscrupulous salesman of their day fanned out from the British and American yards, backed by enormous budgets and the full diplomatic capacities of their respective governments.

The happiest hunting ground for these dreadnought salesmen was South America. Nowhere in the world had changed politically as much as this continent had in the nineteenth century. In 1800 the continent was sleepily divided between the declining empires of Spain and Portugal. By 1900 all this had been swept away and replaced by a series of young, prickly and increasingly wealthy republics. The largest of these: Brazil, Chile and Argentina had a particularly volatile relationship with one another, in which diplomatic tension, military posturing and sporadic minor actions created an ideal environment for battleship selling.

In Part 2, the activities of the international dreadnought salesmen across three continents create a ludicrous but potentially explosive situation.

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Part 2 – The battleship barterers

Rio de Janeiro – Sultan Osman I – Agincourt: One ship, three owners, three names

Once they had identified South America as the prime market for British and American battleships, the Edwardian dreadnought builders got straight to work. By various adroit manoeuvrings, the British and American sales representatives succeeded in selling no less than seven dreadnoughts to these three countries in less than three years. The process started with Brazil agreeing to buy three dreadnoughts from Britain in 1906; with two to be constructed immediately, and a third to be laid down once the first two had been completed. Argentina and Chile promptly responded by each ordering two larger ships: Chile’s from Britain, and Argentina’s from the United States.

However, the fever rapidly abated, and by 1908 the South American ardour for battleship building was cooling in the face of the staggering costs and risks of escalation. In the case of Brazil, an additional chill was provided by a major naval mutiny and the collapse of the rubber and coffee export commodity markets that had been expected to pay for the ships. As a result Brazil attempted to extricate itself from its commitment to build the third ship that it had ordered. The British fought hard to avoid this, and eventually their efforts were successful. However, the witches’ brew of conflicting commercial and political agendas that eventually preserved the deal also produced what was the most ridiculous design ever executed in the dreadnought era.

The Rio de Janeiro was built for show. The Brazilian government were determined that if they were going to have to pay for this unwanted battleship, then it should be the most impressive yet seen in South America. The choice lay between bigger guns or more turrets. Turrets won the day, and the Rio de Janeiro shipped seven, in a period when every other nation was standardising on four. This meant a big ship, but Brazil’s maintenance facilities were limited, which meant that the big ship had to be narrow and tremendously long. Finally the capacity for the officers to entertain in style and live in comfort had a far higher priority than other navies. The Rio de Janeiro had far larger internal spaces and far fewer watertight bulkheads than her equivalents. All of these requirements, plus a respectable top speed, meant that something had to give, and that something was armour. Rio de Janeiro had armour that was barely more than half the thickness of her contemporaries.

Perhaps as the Rio de Janeiro took shape on the slipway it became increasingly obvious that she looked more ridiculous than imposing. Whatever the reason, the Brazilian government decided to get rid of her. In late 1913 she was put up for sale while still incomplete, and sold to the Ottoman Empire for just under six million dollars – a respectable sum for that time. The Rio de Janeiro became the Sultan Osman I. The Brazilians, no doubt highly relieved, departed from the scene. The deal may have been facilitated by the fact that the ever-active British dreadnought salesmen had already sold another larger and far more capable dreadnought, the Reşadiye, to the Ottomans two years previously.

Although Sultan Osman I was the weaker unit of the two new Turkish ships, the situation within the Ottoman Empire at the time of its acquisition endowed it with a much greater political importance to the Turks. The Ottoman Empire, the ‘sick man of Europe’ had been in retreat for half a century. Provinces in the Balkans and North Africa that had been Turkish for centuries had fallen away. The retreat had been accompanied by a sequence of mass murder and ethnic cleansings that had left millions of Turks dead and millions more displaced and destitute within the areas that are now modern Turkey.

The Turks were aware that this process was not complete, and that the Ottoman Empire’s neighbours harboured further expansionist ambitions that would potentially leave the Turkish nation partitioned and bereft of any territory or secure identity. This was a national rather than simply a government realisation. As the government was both chaotic and destitute, the Turkish nation raised the money to buy the Sultan Osman I, largely by public subscription and a myriad of small collections in coffee shops and the like. Special ‘navy donation medals’ of various grades were struck and given to larger donors. It was an act that both presaged and represented the popular will that would lead the Turks to victory at Gallipoli in 1915 and to a secure independence in 1923. The significance of the gesture was reinforced by the name that was given to her – that of the Ottoman Empire’s founder.

In Part 3, British misjudgements over the sale of the two battleships turn a possible ally into a potential foe.

Elevated illuminated space is exciting but how long until the shine wears off – this bad taste won’t even make it to Kitsch.

“This is a great day for Auckland’s inner city cycling network. The cycleway is a new and exciting urban space, creating a city centre where people feel safer and confident to ride a bike.” –Minister Simon Bridges

Comment #13 by David Bridewell  (2 days ago)
I think the cycle – and I trust walkway – is a good idea. But whoever chose that vile colour should be hauled into the centre of Aotea square and mercilessly flogged.

### nbr.co.nz Thu, 3 Dec 2015‘Magenta Adventure’ cycleway opens in Auckland
By Emerson Howitt
Auckland cyclists are in the pink with today’s launch of the city’s latest piece of cycle-friendly infrastructure. The $18 million magenta coloured Light Path cycleway – already dubbed “Magenta Adventure” – was opened with a ribbon cutting ceremony presided by Transport Minister Simon Bridges, followed by schoolchildren cycling along the re-vamped Nelson St motorway off-ramp. […] The off-ramp was closed in 2005 after an upgrade to the central motorway junction left it surplus to requirements. […] The Light Path features interactive lighting along one side that will illuminate the structure at night.Read more + 34 comments

iion Published on Dec 3, 2015Te Ara I Whiti – The Light Path #LightPathAKL
@BikeAKL celebrated the opening of #LightPathAKL with hundreds of cyclists taking to the newly opened cycleway. We went along to see their reactions and join in the festivities. Interactive Light Installation by iion http://iion.co.nz

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Light Path Canada St Bridge [Patrick Reynolds]

### transportblog.co.nz Thu, 3 Dec 2015Te Ara I Whiti – the lightpath
By Matt L
Auckland’s newest and certainly it’s most colourful cycleway (so far) was officially opened today by Transport Minister Simon Bridges. And I must say, Simon gave a fantastic speech showing he gets it, talking up the environmental, health, congestion and economic benefits of investing in cycling – this view was reinforced in discussion with him later. […] The new bridge connecting Canada St to the old offramp has been given the name of Te Ara I Whiti or the lightpath and combined is a fantastic addition to Auckland. […] One of the most surprising things about the project is just how little time it has taken from inception to delivery.Read more

### NZ Herald Online 2:14 PM Saturday Dec 5, 2015Pedal to the new metal
By Catherine Smith
I don’t usually claim to have much in common with engineers – putting things together is not my strong suit. But on Tuesday, when I donned a fluoro vest and rode the newest piece of Auckland’s cycling infrastructure with project manager Stephen Cummins of GHD, I couldn’t get enough of the geeky details of the shared pathway, formerly known as the old Nelson St off-ramp.

It is barely a year since the Lightpath Te Ara I Whiti (it got a fancy pants name at Thursday’s opening), first got the nod. New York’s glamour former tsar of transportation, Janette Sadik-Khan, was in town to talk up how she transformed the Big Apple’s car-clogged streets to plazas given over to people and bikes. She was less than flattering about Auckland’s un-connected bits of cycle paths. The “three Ls” who shape Auckland – mayor Len Brown, design head Ludo Campbell-Reid and chair of Auckland Transport Lester Levy – keen to impress Sadik-Khan, fell over themselves to promise Barbara Cuthbert of Bike Auckland in front of an audience of over 1500 city-lovers that they would convert the abandoned motorway into a connector between the aging Northwestern cycleway, the new Grafton Gully path and the rest of the city.

The result is extraordinary. This bridge, complete with art works of pulsing lights, pohutukawa trees and a stunning perspective of the city’s favourite bits is no dull bit of infrastructure. Cummins, possibly punch-drunk from lack of sleep, reckons that a project of this complexity would typically take a minimum of two years, but every one of the suppliers was so excited by this build that they pulled out all the stops to whittle that time to eight months. Despite reporting to many “parents” (this is an NZ Transport Agency project as the stretch of road is part of the national motorway), the design team was tight and fast-moving: GHD was lead designer, with architects Monk Mackenzie and engineers from the Agency.

Early thoughts were to plunk something clunky and temporary between the back of K Rd and the old off-ramp. Fortunately, saner heads (and money from minister Simon Bridges’ urban cycleways programme) funded a much better option. Already it’s been named in the World Architectural Festival, design mags are raving.Read more